Miss Tinkerbell continues to be the elusive kitty in the house. Most of the time, she stays in my roommate's bedroom. He reports she often sleeps on his bedside table, an arrangement made awkward by her insistence on licking his hand at random times of the night. Tink has one of those soft kitty tongues and while it might seem that anything would be better than sandpaper cat tongue, those of us who are used to that find soft cat tongues to be disconcerting.
Tink remains apprehensive of me. We're not really surprised by this. It took my roommate several years to get her to trust him and I'm a fairly imposing person to handle. It doesn't help that almost everyday that I go to change the litter box, she's in there. I think she believes me to be some kind of fetishist.
Perhaps when winter arrives she will change her opinion of me and the living room. After all, when the weather is cold, Mister Hiss (as we call the stove in the living room) weaves a seductive song of warmth and comfort. Like many a cat before her, she will probably fall under his enchantments and join us as we try to keep from freezing.
It's even possible that she may fall under the spell of the blankets and afghans that will be covering us. Perhaps, like other cats before her, she will hop up on the couch or the ottoman and nestle onto the lap of a warm human. Of course, she'll tell herself she's only doing it for the warmth, but it's quite possible she'll begin to enjoy the petting and the scratching behind her ears that comes along with it.
Hee! Kitty, you will be mine!
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